


Over 'n Over 'n Over Again

by Pantherlily



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), UnDeadwood (Web Series)
Genre: Ground Hogs Day AU, Inspired by the Discord Chat of course, Oops here comes some Clayson, Please heed the character death warning, Timey Wimey Loop stuff, Uh NOT a fix it fic, UnDeadwood Mini-series (Critical Role)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21553258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pantherlily/pseuds/Pantherlily
Summary: The Deadwood 5 are caught in time. Someone is trying to fix it and they keep starting it over. But there can only be one true ending to it all.Spoilers for all four episodes.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

The dust has settled. The street is quiet. A stillness and somberness falls across the town. Dead. They’re all dead. It isn’t supposed to be like this. It is all wrong. Fix it. Have to fix it. How? Try and try again. Try until they get it right. When will this nightmare end? Why is this happening? Why even bother anymore? It is hopeless. Death and destruction. It is all this town produces. Perhaps I will just let it fall apart. They never get it right. For fuck’s sake, just get it _right_ already!

* * *

Clayton wakes roughly, breathing hard. He instinctively goes for his guns, shaken so from his sleep, he is half expecting there to be someone in the room with him. There isn’t. But in his head, he can still hear the voice telling him to get it right. Whatever that means. Sweat drips from his forehead even as he finally gets his breaths under control. No going back to sleep now. He sighs and stands, walking over to the window and looking out on the quiet town. It is still. Still. It shakes in him a déjà vu he doesn’t understand. Not yet, anyway.

As he goes about his day, he begins to notice something peculiar. He is anticipating things before they happen. Like…he has already done it before. Like reaching to catch things before they even begin to fall. It is the damnedst thing. His instincts are good, but not anything like this before.

A new preacher just came to town and he swears he has seen that man before, but where? Texas, maybe. No more recent than that. His memory is sharp. Then why can’t he remember? Not remembering, it nags at him all day and the next.

Then before he knows it, Al Swearenge calls on him. And the Preacher is there. Along with a few others. He has seen the ladies around town but the other fellow he isn’t familiar with. Most likely quite new. And even still, that familiarness nags at him and he can’t place it.

They are sent out to pit and _holy shit_ these are weird fucking snakes. He keeps his cool on the outside but internally, it is fucking unnerving as shit. They are trying to fight them off, but it isn’t enough. One bites him and what the fuck is it doing….? It is starting to burrow into his skin. He screams.

The gunslinger wakes with a scream, breathing hard and drenched in sweat. Fuck. He has to be losing his damn mind. Didn’t he just wake up like this a few days ago? Only he doesn’t recall screaming last time. He pats at his body frantically but doesn't find any snake bites. What in the ever-loving fuck is going on? Nightmare. Just a nightmare. It has to be…but it all felt so real.

Well fuck all. The preacher has just arrived in town. _Again_. That…is impossible. _Fuck._ Is this why Mason seems so familiar like last time? Shit. How does he know his name already? If he ends up at Al’s office again with them then he knows it is real. It doesn’t make it any less hard to wrap his mind around.

Yep. There they were. Clayton is only half listening, he’s already heard the story anyway, and is instead looking closely at everyone else. None of them seem to realize they have done this before. This is fucking bullshit. He is a man who likes control and whatever is happening, he has zero control over it.

This time when they go to the pit, he knows to be ready and avoid getting bit. Only this time he doesn’t make it there. He falls off his damn horse and is run over by a stampede. This time Clayton doesn’t scream when he wakes up, but he does swear.

It goes on like that for Clayton, for so many times he lost count after over thirty. Sometimes he makes it several days with the Deadwood 5 and even a few times before he meets them. But its always the same. He dies, one way or another. The worst are when he is the last to die. That feeling of feebleness and hopelessness as they all go down around him before he too falls, only to wake up the next day and have to endure hell all over again.

The gunslinger has tried everything he can think of. From changing what he does, to telling his friends they are stuck in some fucked up time loop. They believe him after a bit of convincing, but no one seems to remember the next go around.

Until today, when he awakens to a pounding on his door. Clayton finds Arabella standing on the other side of the door. A single shared look and he knows. "Oh, thank fuck, I'm not the only one anymore."


	2. Chapter 2

Ghosts aren’t real. Arabella isn’t sure she actually believes that. She swears she saw her sister in her room when she woke up this morning. Something was strange. Like this has happened to her before. Hasn’t Mr. Sharpe said something about time repeating itself before? It all seems so ridiculous and yet…

Her husband is passed out drunk at the kitchen table still and she rushes off to town without a word. She goes to where gunslinger is staying at and pounds on the door frantically. When it opens and they stare at each other she knows.

Apparently so does he. “"Oh, thank fuck, I'm not the only one anymore." He moves out of the way for her to come in and then shuts the door firmly behind her.

“How…how many times has this happened?” She isn’t sure she wants to know the answer, but she can’t stop herself from asking the question anyway.

Mr. Sharpe gives a small shrug. “Over fifty now, I think.”

Oh. “Right. How do we fix it?” She isn’t sure she can stand losing her sister and her mind over and over again. How is he even still sane if he has been through it so many times already?

The gunslinger gives a grunt and half laugh that holds no joy. It sounds more like a disdainful snort. “If I knew that, we wouldn’t be standing here having this conversation, now would we?”

Arabella lets out a huff. “No need to be snippy Mr. Sharpe.”

“Clayton is fine.” The gunslinger seems to think they are on familiar terms now. Although, she supposes that makes sense considering how many times they ‘have met’ now for him.

“You will stay Mr. Sharpe, Sir. I have a husband. No need to go around being familiar with each other like that.” Well, she isn’t going to let it slide that easily. Best not to get too attached if they are going to be living through some kind of hellish time problem repeatedly.

The second time coming back for Arabella is a particularly rough one. They end up in a gunfight with Wild Bill in the thoroughfare and everyone gets gun downed. Reverend Mason first. Then Miriam. Oh Lord help her; she had held Miriam in her arms as she died. Then Mr. Fogg. Mr. Sharpe makes eye contact with her before he dies, something akin to a knowing smirk or a maybe grimace on his lips. It is hard to tell with the tears in her eyes. She is taken last, but she doesn’t care because she knows she will wake up from this terror and try again. She has to fix it.

Tears are streaming down her face when she wakes up. Arabella feels herself shaking. How does Mr. Sharpe keep going? She is already a mess after twice now. She dresses herself hastily, not caring she isn’t looking like a proper lady. She doesn’t even have to look at the kitchen table to know her worthless husband is passed out drunk on it.

She beelines straight to the gunslinger’s door, but he must have been expecting her because the door opens just before she knocks. Fuck decorum. She collapses into his arms crying. “Clayton…this is awful…”

“I know Mrs. Whitlock.” He holds her with ease, and she is a little surprised he is comforting her. He doesn’t seem the sort.

“Arabella is fine.” She doesn’t know how long she stays there crying into his chest, but he lets her and that’s all that matters.


	3. Chapter 3

“We’re gonna get through this darlin’.” Clayton knows fuck all about comforting folks. It has been so long since he has given it or even received any himself.

He feels her take a few, deep shuddering breaths before finally pulling away from him. “Sorry, I’m not sure what came over me.” She wipes away the final tears and stands tall.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for.” Clayton shrugs and falls silent for moment before making eye contact. “It’s gonna get worse. You need to prepare yourself for that.” His voice is low, and he hates himself for coming off so callus, but she needs to know.

“I’ll be fine. Come along Mr. Sharpe. We have some research to do.” She turns and begins to leave his room.

Clayton grabs his hat and guns, shaking his head to himself a little. “Yes, ma’am.” Who is he to argue at this point? Anything he has tried so far hasn’t work, so a fresh mind is a welcome change of pace.

“Meet me at the church,” Arabella calls over her shoulder before getting on her horse.

The church? The gunslinger sighs and heads over to the burned building. He walks inside and isn’t surprised to find it empty. He has never been much of a religious man, and that goes doubly so considering all the bullshit he has been going through in the last…Clayton isn’t sure how many days or months it has been now. Kinda hard to keep track of time when it keeps resetting itself.

“I’m sorry, is there something I can help you with?” He recognizes the voice immediately and he grimaces before turning around because he knows there will be no recognition in those eyes.

“Reverend.” He dips his head slightly in greeting, his hand tugging at the brim of his hat in the process.

“Yes, I’m Reverend Matthew Mason.” The larger man offers his hand to shake. “You look…familiar, have we met before?” There is a slight squint to preacher’s eyes, as if doing that will help him recognize the gunslinger.

For a brief moment Clayton has a surge of hope but when their eyes meet, he knows that Mason hasn’t remembered. But is perhaps close, because when it first started for him, he was having feelings of déjà vu. He will have to ask Arabella if she experienced anything similar. “Sorry to impose upon you. I’m meeting a friend here. We are looking for a quiet place to do some research.” He gives a bit of smirk as he takes the hand. “Not many more places quieter than a church that almost burned to the ground. Clayton Sharpe, by the way.”

The Reverend laughs and gives a kind smile. “Well all right. Not very cozy in here I’m afraid. Just got into town today, so I haven’t had time to rebuild yet.”

“Have a place to stay?” He already knows the answer but asks it anyway.

“Why here of course.” Mason keeps the smile, but Clayton has dealt with the Reverend enough to know when those eyes become intense like that, he is looking for a double meaning.

“Here?” The gunslinger shakes his head. “Stay at Bullock’s. He’s about as good man as you’ll get around here. Give you a room at a fair price.”

The Reverend stands a littler straighter. It is indicators like that he has come to realize, marks Mason as not the fool as he acts like at times. “Why do I feel like you’re trying to get rid of me Mr. Sharpe?”

“If you would like to stay, you are more than welcome too.” Maybe if they could get ahead of this, they might not all die this time. A fool's thought he knows, but not having to do it alone this time makes him think that maybe he won't watch all his friends die again.


	4. Chapter 4

Reverenced Matthew Mason hasn’t always been a religious or God-fearing man. Now? Well, after everything he had seen during the war…it is hard not to find faith in something. God is just as good as anything. A fresh start is what he needs after leaving Fort Collins and moving on to Rapid City. And now Deadwood.

The church has been burned and in desperate need of repairs. He hears movement from downstairs, which surprises him. No one has come by since he had come here, at least not until now. He cautiously makes his way downstairs to see a man with his back to him. “I’m sorry, is there something I can help you with?”

“Reverend.” The stranger dips his head slightly in greeting, a hand tugging at the brim of the hat in the process as he turns around to face Mason.

“Yes, I’m Reverend Matthew Mason.” He offers his hand to shake, eyes squinting a bit in thought. The man in front of him looks familiar but he can’t quite place it. “You look…familiar, have we met before?”

A look that the Reverend can’t place crosses the features of the stranger beneath the brim of the hat, as they shake hands. “Sorry to impose upon you. I’m meeting a friend here. We are looking for a quiet place to do some research. Not many more places quieter than a church that almost burned to the ground. Clayton Sharpe, by the way.” It doesn’t go unnoticed the question he asks goes unanswered.

The Reverend laughs and gives a smile. “Well, all right. Not very cozy in here I’m afraid. Just got into town today, so I haven’t had time to rebuild.” This situation should make him uneasy but there is something about this Clayton Sharpe he finds comforting. He might even go as far to say as he trusts this man already. Why? They have only just met.

“Have a place to stay?” The question almost feels…scripted.

“Why here of course.” Mason keeps the smile, but he stiffens ever so slightly, and he gives an intense look. Being stuck between suspicion and wanting to outright trust this man, put him in a very strange position. The Lord is surely testing him right now.

“Here?” Clayton shakes his head, as if in disapproval. “Stay at Bullock’s. He’s about as good man as you’ll get around here. Give you a room at a fair price.”

The Reverend stands a little straighter. The suspicion beginning to take hold more firmly now. “Why do I feel like you’re trying to get rid of me Mr. Sharpe?”

“If you would like to stay, you are more than welcome too.” He swears Clayton gives him a knowing smirk but for the life of him he can’t figure out why or what it can possibly mean.

“Well, I am doing some work upstairs where I am staying. If you need anything, just holler.” He gives a nod and turns to head back where he had come from.

“Matthew wait.” The way his first name is used. It sounds…desperate and there is a familiarity that tugs at him again. It is enough to get him to turn around and give Clayton another look over.

The other man moves nearer to him and leans in close. “Remember.” Then much to his surprise kisses Matthew on the mouth.

It is easy to get lost in the kiss. Gentle on the lips. Tender to the touch. He returns it without even thinking twice, despite his shock. He eventually pulls away, clearing his throat and looking into eyes that were staring at him, as if looking for something he still cannot place.

Whatever it is Clayton is looking for apparently, he doesn’t find it. He looks away. “Sorry.” The single word is mumbled and had the church not been so quiet, he might have missed it.

“It’s…fine…” His voice takes on a higher pitch than usual. “It is I who must apologize, but whatever you want me to remember. I feel like…I would remember _that_.” He is trying to make light of the situation but the pain that comes to Clayton’s eyes makes him regret his words immediately.

Silence falls between them after that and neither look at each other.

The silence lasts for what seems like several minutes.

The door to the church opens and he glances over to it to see woman. Another stranger. Not surprising, he is still quite new to this town.

She stares between the two of them. “Am I interrupting something?” An eyebrow shoots up.

“No, Mrs. Whitlock. I was just…trying something I hadn’t before. Didn’t work.” The two share a look that Mason can’t decipher.

“He still doesn’t remember, I take it.” She frowns at that.

“Remember what? What are you two talking about?” Mason is still not understanding what is going on.

A beat. They tell him.

It is a lot to take in and he has to stop them a few times for clarification. He glances to Clayton. “So…you and…I…we’re…?”

A single shoulder shrug is given. “Not every time, but…enough I had hoped a kiss would work. Stupid in hindsight, I reckon.”

“I still can’t believe you kissed him.” Arabella, as he has come to learn her name, is clearly teasing Clayton. The way a sibling would do.

The baited comment doesn’t work and Clayton stares at her with an unimpressed look.

“So, in a few days a fella named Al Swearenge is going to call us into his office and set this…time loop in motion?” Mason is still trying to understand this. They seem sincere enough and entirely lucid, despite how crazy their story sounds.

Clayton gives another shrug. “I think it starts when we wake up, but nothing really happens until we all leave his office.”

“Have you tried _not_ going to the office?” It is the only think the Reverend can come up with, as a solution.

The gunslinger blinks. “Well…no…I haven’t tried that actually. If this works, I’ll give you another kiss.”

Mason can’t stop the blush that creeps onto his cheeks but can’t find any words to speak.

Arabella rolls her eyes at them. “Men.” She sighs before getting back down to business. “So, the plan is when Al calls us to see him we don’t go?”

“Might as well give it a shot. Worst that happens is I get to run around in Hell for a sixtieth time, after this.” For all his bravado, Clayton has a tiredness and weariness in his eyes that doesn’t go unnoticed by the Reverend.

They don’t live long enough to be requested into Al’s office.


	5. Chapter 5

For the first time since waking up in this living nightmare, Clayton lets himself feel hopeful about ending this curse. He will deeply regret and be angry about this next time he wakes up.

The three of them leave the church together and are approached by two men the gunslinger recognizes immediately. Never before have they confronted Mason this soon, but they were changing the game now, so it stands to reason other things were about to change too. Hopefully for the best.

“I know you. You ain’t no reverend.” The man spits at his feet. Funny, after all this time he still can’t remember either of these bastard’s names.

Sometimes he is here to watch the exchange and other times, he isn’t around. He watches the way Matthew stiffens and instinctually shifts his weight. He can’t see the face at this angle, but he can picture the hard stare being given right now.

After everything that has happened, he should have seen this coming. Yet, here they are. The conversation escalates. Shit. This isn’t supposed to happen. Not like this. It has never gone like this before. And just like that any foolish hope he has is dashed.

Arabella is quick to action, jumping in front of Mason and going down first.

It isn’t often he sees Matthew go absolutely feral. Maybe once or twice since this crazy shit has happened. And it is a sight to behold. A man his size should not be able to move like that. The ferocity he tackles the man who shot Mrs. Whitlock may have been surprising if he already didn’t know what the Reverend is capable of.

They fall to the ground, dirt kicking up as they roll around in the middle of the thoroughfare. Clayton draws his own gun and shakes his head fractionally at the other man. It is the only warning he gives the hopplehead, as Swearenge would say.

The gunslinger had his other gun out, ready to shoot the other fighting with Mason if he could get a clean shot off. Although, he supposed it didn’t really matter anymore. Even still, he would never be able to purposely shoot one of his friends. Especially not Matthew. Hit Matty. His heart aches and yearns for the Reverend to remember.

His thoughts are disrupted when there is a gunshot. He watches the Reverend still on top of the other man, before being unceremoniously shoved off. “You bastard.” He shoots the still prone man and then hears a third shot from behind and then a sharp pain in his back. He slumps forward, eyes still open.

When he wakes up again, he doesn’t make a sound or move. This is all pointless, he realizes. What is the point of even trying at this rate? Having a defeatist attitude isn’t something that happens to him but after dying several dozen times now, with no end in sight it is hard to find a reason to get up anymore.

Clayton blindly reaches for a bottle on the nightstand. There isn’t much in it, but it is all he has at the moment. He finally sits up, so he can drink the amber liquid safely. He drinks straight from the bottle, in one long gulp before it is empty. With an angry yell, he throws the bottle against the wall and it shatters with a crash against the wall.

There’s a knock on his door. Arabella. He can hear her calling for him, her voice more frantic the longer he goes on without answering. The door is jammed shut by the chair that is shoved under it.

There is a yelling and swearing from Mrs. Whitlock, but he still remains silent on the bed. Eventually, she must give up trying to get in because it goes quiet outside his door.

With a sigh, he closes his eyes and tries not to think about a damn thing. He is startled out of his thoughts when the door is broken in and he looks to see Mason. It is only a few short steps before the Reverend is at his side.

“I remember.” Matthew leans down and kisses him and realizes in that instance he isn’t going to give up. It isn’t in his nature to begin with but if they can finally get this right then maybe he could have a shot at a life here.

* * *

It is almost another thirty more times of resetting that someone else remembers. Miriam notices the last several times that the other three clearly know each other but she doesn’t remember that she does. Not yet anyway. She starts having bouts of déjà vu. She looks at her compatriots a little more closely. They look back, as if expectantly. “I feel like we have done this before.” The admission feels stupid but…right…

“It’s because we have.” She glances to Mr. Sharpe whose tone is so matter of fact, it is hard not to believe such a fantastical statement.

“Are you finally remembering Mrs. Landisman?” Reverend Mason is standing right close to the gunslinger. Were…they…together?

“I’m not sure.” It isn’t something she likes to admit but, Miriam is feeling right confused at the moment.

“It’s okay. You are close now.” Arabella gives her a kind smile, taking her hands in hers and giving them a light squeeze.

Close to what? Things are just as confusing as before. It isn’t until she watches them die in the shoot out with Wild Bill, Arabella lying dead in her arms from her sister killing her and crying as she goes next and wakes up the next morning does it all make sense.


	6. Chapter 6

Aly is the last to realize it. When they all meet for the first time, he swears they are all looking at him. He doesn’t say anything about it until after they leave Al’s office. “I’m sorry, do y’all know me?” He gives a charming smile to the Arabella and Miriam. “I am sure I would remember such fine ladies as yourself.” He glances between Revernd Mason and Mr. Sharpe. “I sure as shit don’t know you fellas. I have a thing for- “

“Faces.” They all say the word in unison. Aloysius takes another hard look at all of them. They all look so certain they know him. There is some familiarity, but he cannot place it. Surely, he would remember meeting these folks before.

Things only get stranger for him from there. The rest of them seem to work so well together. As if, they know what is going to happen next.

That is until Miss Miriam is taken out by an undead Wild Bill. The rest all fall down around him and he is left alone. Just one more nightmare to plague him for the rest of his days.

If the bounty hunter slept, he probably would have started awake. Instead, his eyes blink rapidly as he suddenly finds himself on a bed and staring at the ceiling. What in the hell? He remembers now. My God. No wonder they had all been staring at him like that. How many times have they been doing this and why was he last to notice?

Aly gets out of bed and heads downstairs. He needs a drink. They are all already there, drinking at the bar. They look up expectantly when they see him. “What the fuck…” He trails off and Clayton gives a bitter laugh. The gunslinger’s name…he knows it. He knows all of their names… Better make it a double.

They give him space and time to process. Aloysius downs the shot. He isn’t a man who likes to wait. “Y’all gonna say something or keep starin’ at me?”

“You’ve remembered, haven’t you?” Reverend Mason asks him.

He doesn’t have to ask what. He does. He gives a nod and orders another double shot of whiskey which he promptly drinks.

Their first time together, with everyone on the same page, doesn’t go all that great surprisingly. They had hoped everything would work out, now that everyone knew. It does not. In fact, ten more go arounds and still no success.

Until, it finally happens. They all live. The town is safe. This _has_ to be it. It isn’t. They all wake up and it isn’t long before Al calls them into his office. They think it is for congratulations but no, he is starting them on their quest for more times than any of them can count at this point.

Several more tries. All with varying outcomes and deaths.

One fateful day, the bounty hunter tries to heal himself after a fight. It doesn’t work and he receives some backlash. His empathy is gone.

Aly shoots and kills Clayton.

The day and night drags on. No one gets any sleep. Except for Aloysius who has the best damn night’s sleep in years.

A new day starts. The time loop is broken. Never have the Deadwood 5 wished it would start over again. Clayton Sharpe is dead. Still dead. And their friend Aly seems just fine with it.


End file.
